Deadly Greed
by WookieeBeta
Summary: "The heathen gods put a curse on the gold..." - Captain Barbossa of the Black Pearl (Lord of the Rings/Pirates crossover; one-shot)


Many hundreds of years ago, when this tired world was not yet so tired, there was a man who defied the gods.  Today, there is a ship whose crew is condemned to a non-life…

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**Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the _Black Pearl_**

**Deadly Greed**

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The day was comfortable; the slight chill in the spring breeze countered the heat in the air.  It was not yet summer, so the humidity was tolerable.  The skies were clear of clouds.  The breeze blew strong and steady from the east.  In all, the day was perfect.  

If, that is, one overlooked the eleven ships strung along the horizon.  

On the deck of the proudest and mightiest ship stood a proud and mighty man.  He sailed from the coasts of Spain to the shores of the then-unnamed Americas, only to drop anchor near the island of San Juan de Ulúa.  He landed several hundred of his countrymen, soldiers and sailors alike, and went on to take conquest of the mighty Aztec civilization.  His name was Hernán Cortés.  

Señor Cortés was to become one of the most famous figures in history, but he didn't know it at the time.  He was too caught up in wresting priceless gold from the native inhabitants of the land to look to the future.  In the end it was this carelessness that destroyed him and countless other good men throughout the years; carelessness, and deadly greed.  

Cortés was presented with a chest of gold wrought in the shape of skull-encrusted medallions.  He scorned the gift, thinking it small and trivial; the holds of his ships were full of much richer treasures.  So Cortés ordered the chest to be thrown overboard with the other disregarded gifts, left to the mercy of the sea and far beyond the grasp of any man.  His galleons, crew, and name passed away into the sands of time; the chest lay long forgotten.  

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"It is the Gift of Men," Yavanna argued.  "It cannot be taken away.  The Firstborn are doomed to suffer for all eternity, until the world collapses and all the Children stand before Ilúvatar, while Men are given an escape from their troubles."

"It is the Curse of Men," Aulë countered sharply.  "They must live their short lives in fear, knowing that the end comes all too easily.  Are Men not the Afterborn, the second of the Children of Ilúvatar?  Should they not enjoy the world as the Eldar do?"

"Someone please remind me why we are having this Eru-forsaken argument again," groaned Ulmo, Lord of Waters.  The mighty Vala held his head in his hands.  "Would it not be easier just to bury the confounded men beneath the sea?"

"No."  Manwë's voice rang clear as a bell over the crazed squabbling of the seven remaining Aratar.  Originally there were eight; Melkor had been thrown from their circle ages ago and still remained a prisoner in the outer reaches.  His name was no longer to be spoken.   "No.  The Gift of Men is death; greed, and lust, is their curse.  So it has been, and so it shall always be.  Death cannot be a reward; its absence must stand as punishment.  Manos?"

The lord of the underworld nodded.  "I understand what I am to do," he said slowly.  "But I do not like it."

"Neither do I," Manwë replied sadly, "neither do I."  

In a deserted sea, later called the Caribbean, the ocean floor shuddered and burst forth.  Rock pierced the surface.  Mountaintops, forever bare and bereft of live, rose high above the pounding waves and stretched their stone heads to the clouds.  Hidden deep within the heart of the island, a chest containing eight hundred and eighty-three gold pieces lay in wait. 

"The spitting image of Númenor," Aulë whispered sadly when he had done.  "Ironic, isn't it…the haven has become the hated."  

"The Land of Gift…"

"The Island of the Dead." 

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"La Isla de Muerta," Captain Barbossa murmured.  "So it _does _exist…"  His grin turned cold and black, and his expression was mirrored by every man in his crew.  The _Black Pearl _wallowed serenely in the waves, her deck tossing gently as she rocked from trough to crest and back again.  Barbossa tossed a dark glance over the motley group of pirates crowded on the _Pearl_'s deck.  _They've mutinied once, they will do it again, _he reminded himself.  

"Come on, men," he said quietly, dangerously, "let's go get ourselves some gold."

And so a legacy of years began…

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^^Disclaimer^^

WookieeBeta does not own 1) Hernán Cortes, 2) any of the Valar, 3) Captain Barbossa, 4) a piece of the Aztec treasure, or 5) anything else mentioned in this fic (sanity included).  She does, however, own a bottle of strawberry Fruitopia and a box of Junior Mints.  So stuff that in your Skittles bag and torch it! 

A/N:  Okay, this is what happens when I see Pirates of the Caribbean for the fourth time and have waaaay too much Fruitopia and Diet Coke…not to mention a good thunder boomer ^grin^  

As far as I know, the majority of all of the above information is fairly accurate.  I didn't do a lot of research, but you can check out this site () for the Cortés info, and any questions about the Valar can probably be cleared up at the Encyclopedia of Arda…  I don't really have the patience to go through and double-check all of my people, but I tried to keep them as close to Tolkien's view as possible.  

And if you don't remember something from Pirates, go watch it again ^grin^

Drop me a review, tell me how bad it is…thankies!


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